this hallow haunted home harbors homely souls
by surelysilly
Summary: Sometimes the earthly known can scare you the most. (Or, the one where everybody has survived Weirdmageddon, and it's easy for Robbie to see that everything has changed. For the better, mostly.)


For Sapphireswimming, because I saw you wanted the Winchesters to scare the pants off of Robbie!

This is probably not what u meant,,,

Hope you enjoy! :3c

* * *

It's not even _fair._

Pitch black night, the moon having waned into non-existence, and the stars hiding behind the clouds. An honestly cliche, but classic backdrop to some cheesy horror film. Something he's sure his parents would absolutely _love._ They're terrible people that way, seriously morbid, and would probably secretly get a kick out of this.

Well, more money anyway.

"I can't believe you _forgot_ the lighter fluid, Dean."

"Bitch."

" _Dean,_ now is honestly not the time."

Robbie is most definitely not terrified of the huge, hulking men with shotguns digging up _that_ old couple's grave _._ The world is nice like that, like how him and Tambry are _perfect_ for each other in every conceivable way. The world wouldn't do this to him. This has to be some kind of wacko fever dream, and he'll snap awake any moment now.

Weirdmageddon was traumatizing for everybody, alright?

"You've got longer legs, you go get it," snarks the shorter shadow, swinging the rifle around, and in no way sends Robbie's heart jack-rabbiting. "I'll watch out for Mr. and Mrs. Duskerton."

Robbie shifts back down behind the raised headstone, and slips, scraps a shoe against a flat tombstone.

There's the unmistakable click of a gun, and his heart skips a beat.

Silence follows, his heart beat loud in his ears, and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

Is this pay back? Karma? He likes to think Wendy and Dipper have sorta mostly forgiven him. The things he did before pale in comparison to the shit-storm they went through to reclaim the town. Can't he have more than made up for it by now?

The gloom grows darker in a streak over him, and he can't help it.

Robbie bolts.

He does not shriek when the corner of a headstone bursts apart in front of him with a _crack_ , bits of shards catching his face and sending him backpedaling. But, if he did by some fluke chance, it had to have been cool, if not suave. Tambry would have deemed it Vine quality. If any of this were remotely funny.

Unforgiving gravity takes him to the ground. Robbie scrambles to flip back over and run, a hand to his bleeding face, when something hard is shoved into the back of his head, twin circles of heat searing through his hair to his skin.

It presses harder, his head dipping downward. "Okay, you've got thirty seconds. Talk."

"Triangular _h_ _ell,_ please don't shoot me!" he gasps, one knee to the ground, other leg and arm trembling from the awkward hold. "I'm just patrolling the cemetery, man!"

Which, by the way, he will never do again. He will wash _all_ the dishes.

"Likely story."

This is where the tears start to come in, because, yes? Likely story because it is _true._

Oh, and the panic attack, but. Y'know, semantics, schmantics.

Robbie collapses, suddenly weak, and luckily the gun does not go off. He still feels like he's dying anyway, though. He loses time here to the crushing fear. It's dark, and then light. A flashlight? He's rolled over, and it blinds him, sends him into shuddering gasps.

Bill isn't here. He isn't. They banished him, remember? Locked him and his friends up, and threw away the key. He'll never see the light of day, or creep through someone's dreams again.

 _God,_ he hates the color yellow.

" _—a kid—_ "

" _—attack. Have to—_ "

" _G̥̹̦͎̭ET̬̲̳ ̱̟̪̠͈̩A͈̠͙̦̬W͍͙͇̻̞̖AY ͇͍͖FR̺̞̬͙̭͖̜O͎͍͕͉̫̣ͅM͓͇̞̭̟̞ H̝̲I̦͉͍̜̖M̜͍̙._ "

The light is blue this time, soft.

Another shot rips through the air, a grunt, and everything runs clear as a familiar face peers into his.

"H-Hey Pa," Robbie manages weakly, eyes swimming into focus on the spirit's glasses first, and then the rest of his face.

"M'boy, what happen—"

A furious shriek cuts him off. " _T̘̟HE̤Y'͚̫̩̲̩̳̺R̩͙̠͙̩̘E̗ ̖̙͚̱͚̼D̥͖̖I͓̤G͎̭̱̮͇G̦̪̝̥͈I͎͉̝̤̭͙N̲̱G̫͍͎͚̼̼̪ ̤̺̫U͈P̠͍͔͓̘ ̗O͎͎̩̣͎UR̥͙̳ ̲̬͙̘̤G͖͕R̜͈A̘̹͎̖͇͚͔VE͍!̹̲̪͓_ "

Robbie can't help the flinch at the rage that colors the old man's face. Despite the flow of time, he still remembers that first time in their convenience store.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and another slides under his back. The ghost's face softens as he helps Robbie sit up, floating back from him. He shivers, and rubs his arms, jaw working and upsetting tacky blood.

Gross.

"Did they hurt you? Do we need to make them disappear?" _Like the other weirdos who make it to town?_

"They blew up a headstone," he exaggerates, half-hearted. "But, I don't know. It's yous guy's graves, do whatever."

He just wants to go home. Sleep. Tell Tambry he loves her, something.

Pa zips off with a downright gleeful look to his face. Robbie drags a dark sleeve over his face, working through the shaking, and sighs. The fighting and yelling disappears off into the distance, and after he can't hear anymore, Robbie gets up on wobbly legs. He looks at the ruined graves, and promises to personally fill them back in once they're fixed.

When the sun's out. When the sun's out, though.

He just hopes Ma doesn't leave another gift on the porch. Everyone has mostly forgiven them, and likes them now, but the teeth really freaked Dipper out last time. Not that it didn't squick him out a bit, because the gum and wet blood still attached to the enamel certainly did.

But, if Robbie's like completely honest though? Like one hundred percent?

Shared trauma really does work miracles.


End file.
